In the Moonlight
by cocowriter2.0
Summary: This pale light has its own appeal... (This is a strong M, you've been warned.)


Her hand, between her thighs ran down her slit as she moaned. She was naked on her bed facing the wall, ass sticking in the air, chest on the bed, as she looked at him, her hair like a black curtain behind her face. The only light, moonlight, came from the window where the curtains had been drawn. She slipped a finger into her dripping lips, sighing at the relief she felt. As she started to pump in and out, she bit her lip trying to suppress her sighs. He saw the vein in her neck strain at that.

As she added another finger, she began moving in time to the strokes of her fingers, alternately rotating her hips with every other thrust. She faced the wall again her eyes falling shut as her climax approached her, her breath hitching more frequently now.

He stared transfixed.

He'd couldn't believe he was sitting here looking at Joan bring herself to what, by all signs, seemed like it'd be a very, _very_ good orgasm. He felt himself twitch against his stomach, remembering he was nude too, so taken up in Joan's performance he'd been. He needed to participate.

Joan brought her other hand to play with her clit and with a few more thrusts she was pulling the sheets up with her teeth as her back arched for the incredible orgasm that overtook her. Sherlock couldn't help thinking of something feline as he sat enraptured by her silhouette in the moonlight. She'd just almost succeeded in muffling her scream, a garbled cry escaping through the soft sheets.

He stood up, wanting a better view of her orgasmic high. Her skin was flushed a bright pink and she seemed to gleam. He reached out a hand to touch the her rump, slowly, cautiously, like a person who couldn't quite believe if he was actually seeing what he was seeing or his mind was playing tricks on him. She lay flat on the bed, spread-eagled, from the sheer force of her orgasm. She was panting trying to get her breathing back under control, her hair covering her head like some sort of dark halo. His own dirty angel for the night he thought.

He knelt on the bed flipping her over onto her back. He grabbed her feet, holding them together and kissed them. Then he ran his hands along each leg slowly kissing his way thoroughly till he was eye level with her sex. He placed a quick kiss to her bud and kept moving upwards, sticking his tongue into her belly button as he continued his _'kiss-xamination'_ of her body, finally capturing her lips with his. All this time she'd been quiet moans and sighs escape her.

He brushed the hair away from her face needing to look her in the eye as he kissed her once again. She'd wrapped her legs around his waist and was grinding torturously slow up into him. He'd definitely had practice holding off but he didn't want to do that tonight. He'd had to do that because when you paid for a service you usually wanted to get your money's worth, _**all**_ of it. Joan wasn't going anywhere though and he'd make sure of that.

He thrust into her with no warning, but gently not, wanting to hurt her. He latched on to one breast, as his other hand played with the other. Joan tried to take control of the pace digging into him with her heels but he was having none of that. He grasped her legs unlocking them from his waist. He sat up and lifted her legs, turning to suck on her leg, maybe he'd give her a leg hickey, if that was even possible.

"Now Joan, be patient," he breathed out as she gave him a death glare, well as close to one as she could manage with him pushing into her. As his tempo increased she reached back to steady herself against the headboard, his force sending her up the bed. He was again taken in by the stretch of her body, the way her breasts stood up and his rhythm faltered. He released her legs to the side, turning her onto her side.

He wanted to see the way her body undulated in the moonlight. He pushed into from behind, also on his side, his hand on her stomach as he picked up the rhythm. There ragged breath began to sound like a seductive sound to him as Joan became more vocal. The fluttering in her walls was an early warning sign of her second orgasm. He rode it out with her, not quite done yet.

After she'd calmed down sufficiently, he started slowing moving within her again. He soon pulled out to kneel on the bed again, bringing her to kneel with him. She was on all fours when he entered her from behind and her head dropped onto her chest. He reached for her belly, bringing her upright with him. Her hands went round his neck, drawing him into a hungry kiss, as his massaged and teased her breasts.

As his thrusts gained power she broke off the kiss, lips remaining close and breaths mingling as her hands remained on his neck. He reached up for her hands drawing them achingly slowly over her body. He first settled them on her breasts, tugging at the taut peaks. Then further down they went to her belly where they drew nameless patterns along the flat plane.

Finally, they reached her lips, as he let her feel them joining, her fingers stroking along him whenever he withdrew. He brought them back up to play with her engorged clit and her breath hitched in her throat. He was by now pounding with abandon into her and her arched off him, head still on his shoulder. He could feel it, she was almost there, she was moaning and trying to suppress a scream.

"Come for me Joan," he whispered into her ear.

"Sherlock, Sherlock... SHERLOCK!" she exclaimed and his eyes flew open. He rubbed them looking confusedly around himself. He was half on half off the sofa and clothed... so was she.

_Damn it,_ he thought and looked at her.

"I was asking whether you wanted Chinese or Indian?" she said waving two takeout menus in his face.

"Feel like Indian tonight," he replied, _just had Chinese_ he thought. He really had to get his traitorous mind under control.


End file.
